


5 Times Q notices Bonds body and one time she notices his brain

by Nightingowl



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Female Q (James Bond), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Ignores SPECTRE, Pre-Relationship, female!Q, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28760877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightingowl/pseuds/Nightingowl
Summary: 5+1, does what it says in the titleTo be honest, Q hadn’t really noticed Bond properly until after the whole Silva debacle. Sure, she had seen him then, had that thing in front of the Fighting Temeraire, but she had been busy with her promotion, both stressed out by the new responsibilities and still grieving for Boothroyd.Q wasn’t perturbed by the Double-Os attractiveness most of the time. It was a requirement of the job, really, another tool in their arsenal to charm the information required for Queen and country. She was also not immune to it. While she had no intention to indulge the flirtation all the Double-Os found necessary to bestow on her on the comms or while picking up equipment, she could admire their physique and the charming veneer, as long as she did not forget the killer lurking under the surface.She looked at him and noticed that he really was devastatingly handsome, his intellect showing behind his impossibly blue eyes, his body strumming with energy. Oh no, she thought. This was dangerous.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	5 Times Q notices Bonds body and one time she notices his brain

**Author's Note:**

> No Idea why I had to make this het, but now it is. Always-A-Girl-Q, Spectre hasn’t and will never happen (cuz it stupid). Pre-Relationship. No beta, not Brit-picked.

5 – Back

To be honest, Q hadn’t really noticed Bond properly until after the whole Silva debacle. Sure, she had seen him then, had that thing in front of the Fighting Temeraire, but she had been busy with her promotion, both stressed out by the new responsibilities and still grieving for Boothroyd. Everything that happened was suspended, hanging in her mind like a blur, like a bad dream in the light of the morning sky shining through the window. A dream with aftershocks like an earthquake shaking the foundations of MI6. Slowly and surely, reality had come back in and 6 months after the Incident, everything seemed to operate in parameters as normal as possible for an organization full of mad spies. As R, Q had always been secretly relieved that dealing with the Double-Os was on Boothroyd and the handling teams of Q-Branch, not on her computer geeks and engineers. People, she had noted when her responsibilities grew to managing, where far more complicated to direct than computers. Now as Q, she would be responsible to deal with them herself and protect her R, a man so introverted he had not yet developed her coping methods for social interaction, which boiled down to dry banter and showing as little weakness as possible.

The Double-Os were not dangerous to Q or her branch, she quickly discovered. When in Headquarters, they prowled around like caged big cats, cowing boffins and low ranked field agents alike, but they were not dangerous. However, they were all dangerously attractive. 004 liked to wear shoes with heels higher than Q had ever seen and killer legs to go with it. 009 went around with practical flats, but skirts basically glued to her swaying hips. 002 seemed incapable of keeping his suit jacket on and spend nearly all his time with his sleeves rolled up to his impossibly big arms. Q wasn’t perturbed by the Double-Os attractiveness most of the time. It was a requirement of the job, really, another tool in their arsenal to charm the information required for Queen and country. She was also not immune to it. While she had no intention to indulge the flirtation all the Double-Os found necessary to bestow on her on the comms or while picking up equipment, she could admire their physique and the charming veneer, as long as she did not forget the killer lurking under the surface.

The first time Q noticed Bond, he was standing in Mallory’s Office with his back to facing the door, listening quietly while M explained the mission. Since she would have to introduce both men to the new remote hacking technology hidden in a USB-Stick, she had decided to kill two birds with one stone and had scheduled the last minute of the meeting for herself. Nodding to Moneypenny, she had entered quietly and noticed the minute nudge of Bonds shoulders as he registered her entry. He did not turn around and Q was struck by the sight of his broad back tapering to a trim waist, emphasized by his expensive suit. The moment lasted only a few seconds before Mallory ended his sentence and raised his eyebrow at Q, prompting her to speak. She internally shook of any thought not on technology and quickly explained how Bond was to use this gadget. After the meeting, she lingered at Moneypenny’s desk while he departed down the hall and she decided that he did indeed have a nice back.

4 - Arse  
Q sighed. Testing the newest long-range sniper rifles designed to shoot trackers onto subjects without them noticing was exhausting and getting on her back. There was nothing do about hit, however. They would need the data on the current version on Monday to have the design finished for 001s mission on Friday and it was currently a beautiful summer Sunday. MI6 was running on minimum staff and Q-Branch’s engineering section was deserted. She had sent Mr. Taylor, her weapon-tester, home after his incessant moaning about the nice weather had given her a pulsing headache and was thus both shooting and taking notes on the vibrations registered on the high-tech target puppets. This, due to the setup of the rifle on an elevated platform, involved a lot of standing up and lying back down to shoot, which had lodged a knot of pain in her lower back that complained every shot. She was just about to lie down behind the gun when she heard someone clearing their throat behind him. Startled, she whirled around to face Bond, who held his equipment box in his hand. Internally, she threw her hands up in frustration. He was supposed to return it to a handler when she was not present in the main section of Q-Branch!

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, irritated at him and the entire situation.  
“They directed me to you, saying I could return my equipment and make for my missing audio in one go”.  
Bond shrugged and the headache sent another firm pulse from Qs temples. Then she decided not to immediately fire whoever had sent him here as she noticed his gaze sweeping to the rifle. Of course! Bond was also qualified to handle the prototype under her strict supervision, her back would not complain any longer and she could maybe see to her cats while it was still dark out. 

“Wonderful” she said drily, taking the equipment from Bonds hands and transferring it to a nearby table.  
“Shoot lying down at the middle target, aim for a 35° angle of impact on the neck, you have three attempts.” She took her tablet from the desk, ready to note any inconsistencies in the data and turned back around. Bond was already lying down, adjusting the weight of the prototype on his shoulder and moving into the ideal position to shoot. Huh, Q thought to herself, Bonds nice back led to quite a nice arse. Outlined in the suit pants, it looked delectably firm. She lost herself a little as Bond took the first shot and compensated the recoil in a full body movement, tensing a little. The beeping of the tablet sent her back to reality and she massaged her temples with her free hand. Clearly, a little rest was needed for her brain to function in normal parameters.

3- Arms

Q loved engineering. No really, the nitty-gritty, hands-on part of the job where you ended up so grimy you absolutely had to shower gave a different sense of fulfillment than a perfectly executed hack or a successful social interaction with a Double-O. She pondered it while standing on a step ladder to inspect a small device tacked to a helicopter they had “borrowed” from the RAF. The new device was to be attached to an enemy helicopter by an agent and could be dispatched as a small drone for portable air surveillance or hopefully soon the precise deployment of bombs and EMPs. Helicopters, Q had learned, where surprisingly commonly found in espionage. She prodded at the device to secure it when ladder started to wobble beneath her as Commander McKenna, the RAF pilot, adjusted his seating in the helicopter cockpit. As the ladder lost its entirely footing and she fell downwards, she spared a thought to R who would surely have a hard time adjusting to his role of Q after her tragic death due to an unsecured ladder on a concrete floor.

However, instead of cold hard floor greeting her, she landed in a secure grasp. Q immediately was angry at both her inner dramatics and her need to be rescued from a fall like a Victorian maiden as her savior gave a quiet “oof” and set her to her feet. She looked up a few centimeters and immediately wanted to slap herself as Bond’s blue eyes twinkled at her. “Quartermaster, I understand you needed to see me before my flight.” He was still holding her at her back with one arm, as if he wanted to prevent her from fainting dead. Since she had no intention to do so, she took a step away and took the long, slim box sitting on the ground. Bending down, her head was suddenly swimming and Bond quickly grasped her arm to stop her falling. She stood back up. “007” her voice gave out, she cleared her throat embarrassedly and tried again “007, inside this case you will find the tracking rifle for your mission as well as your radio. Do bring it back in one piece.” Bond let go of her arm to open the case and she blinked. He had apparently conceded to the summer heat and had discarded his suit jacket as well as rolled up his sleeves which put his forearms at full display as he pulled out the rifle and turned it over in his hands. The corded muscle on his arms shifted smoothly under the skin and Q shook of her dizziness. A stupid fall had no right to make something as menial as a mans forearms a focus of her brain. 

2- Hands 

Panting, Q checked the magazine of her gun and took a careful look around the corner. Tanner and R had convinced her to a “safety exercise, making sure that Q-Branch could handle intruders” and had somehow cajoled both her, R and M into what was essentially elaborate paintball, with the intruders played by all field agents currently in London. She had managed to spare a few handlers for ongoing missions, but nearly all of Q-Branch had been swept up in the exercise, the boffins mostly eager to finally use their required training for something.  
The corridor she was looking into was empty. Q carefully raised the gun and slipped around the corner, sneaking along the wall. Three turns more and she would have reached the door to her office, where she could activate the surveillance cameras and control the safety doors, securing a win for Q-Branch. Light footfalls caught her attention and she looked around for cover. There: a door to a back-up server room, which would give her both the advantage of knowing the layout and splitting up possible multiple assailants in the small maze of computers. She opened the door quietly and squeezed into the dark room. 

Immediately, she felt someone grab her arms. Her training kicked in and a short scuffle ensued, when a voice whispered sharply from the dark “Q stop! I’m on your side!”  
At the same time, a body pressed her against the wall, her arms held down by strong hands. She recognized the voice.  
“What are you doing Bond? You’re a) a field agent and b) supposed to be in Bruxelles!” She twisted her body again, to no avail.  
“Stop moving Q!” Bond whispered back angrily. “I wrapped up in Belgium yesterday and debriefed after you had gone home. Also, I made a bet with Alex that Q-Branch would win the paintball tournament”  
Q relaxed minutely. 006 and 007 combined where a menace, prone to acting like much younger men when of mission and put together. “If you don’t shoot me, I’m going to let you go now” Bond said and slowly peeled away from her. Then he looked out the door and efficiently shot two of the field agents in the corridor in the chest. The light streaked into the dark server room and illuminated Bond in profile, standing in perfect position, hands wrapped around a paintball gun. Strong hands, Q noticed, great for holding her slim arms. They looked almost big enough to wrap around her waist and Bonds competent grip as he reloaded showed his dexterous fingers. Q was suddenly glad for the dark server room as she blushed and turned her gaze away from him into the corridor. Bonds hands were surely not going to cost her the win.

1 – Eyes

There was no way around actually handling the agents sometimes, Q had found out. Some jobs required her technical knowledge in hacking databases while directing an agent through a building, some operative-handler teams could get so mismatched that there was imminent danger of the agent simply ripping out his earpiece and sometimes she was just the first at the scene of the crime, when Q Branch was at minimum staff and a Double-O had bollocksed their mission up thoroughly. Today though was none of these things. She wasn’t even handling directly, standing at her desk surrounded by the sound of Q-Branch. She was supposed to be focusing on the annual review of her project leaders in engineering. The glitz and glamor of espionage, she thought bitterly, as she read the text prompting her to summarize Engineering Manager Scot’s points of improvement for the third time.

On her second screen, a movement caught her eye – Bond had successfully installed a camera in the targets private library where he was currently posing as a literature professor interested in the targets collection of rare Egyptian scrolls. They suspected their target, an avid collector, had his designs on documents uncovered by terrorists and would meet their leader at his library, a plan so obviously stupid it could come only to a doddering yet paranoid aristocrat as their target. Bond adjusted the camera minutely downwards, then sat down on the table with the air-controlled case containing the scrolls. Q watched as he pulled on gloves and slid a pair of wire-framed reading glasses onto his eyes. He winked at the camera, then quickly focused on the reading as the target stepped into frame. They talked for a moment, then Bond began carefully reading and transcribing the scrolls. Q slid her mouse over and enlarged the footage. Bond’s ice blue eyes were dimmed neither by the glasses nor by his focus on the reading. Q took the time to look at them without an awkward silence hanging between them. They were indeed beautiful. She clicked the footage away. No need to get lost in these eyes, lest she be accustomed to staring into them, trying to ascertain the man behind.

+1 Mind

She was far to busy to deal with him right now. Bond had entered into Q-Branch and stood patiently next to her desk, apparently waiting to be addressed. Not right now, though. 002 was running through the streets of Cairo, hot on the heels of a suspected assassin and Q was directing, the street maps and satellite photos tracking the agents progress through the city as she mentally calculated ideal routes.  
“He should turn right into the bazaar”, Bond suddenly advised. Automatically, Q transferred the information to 002, who made a sharp turn and cut through the bazaar, shaving 2 minutes of Qs optimal route. She spared a glance at Bond whose eyes tracked over her screen. She could see him thinking, transferring his knowledge onto 002s mission, correlating experience and new information. It was impressive for a man Q had thought do mainly act on instinct, desire and sometimes directions. She silently handed Bond an extra wig and when after another 40 minutes 002 had finally caught up to his target, she looked over to him again. His hair was slightly ruffled, his suit creased at the elbow where he had lent on Qs desks and he shone with the satisfaction Q felt herself after a good programming session or an exhausting but productive bout of hacking. She looked at him and noticed that he really was devastatingly handsome, his intellect showing behind his impossibly blue eyes, his body strumming with energy. Oh no, she thought. This was dangerous.


End file.
